The Third Wheel

This is how it feels to be me.  To be the dreaded third wheel.  I could say it in one word (SUCKS) but I'll stick with the words below:

The Third Wheel                  4/1/2014

It may not be thick,

but I have very deep tread.

Not necessarily fragile but extremely delicate.

Never reliable but always dependable.

These hazardous roads made me tough

but definitely not durable.

I’ve hydroplaned on unforeseen puddles before.

It’s more exhilarating than terrifying.

With my heart’s speed being the only factor,

I’m pretty sure it will happen over and over again.

I’ve slipped on idyllic ice before.

It’s more obvious than transparent.

It didn’t just turn me in a nauseating circle,

it changed my direction entirely.

I’ve been stuck in despotic mud before.

Churning these tires to get out of the trap,

only to flick more dirt on my mirrors.

Pieces of him are still on me.

I’m afraid I’ll never truly be washed clean.

I’ve been stuck in exasperating traffic before.

In fact, this is where I’ve sat for years.

Stalled in the middle lane, horns honking, others flying past me at a rate I’ll never understand.

Only my brake lights seem to be lit.

Mile after mile I can literally feel these tires wearing thin.

Screw after screw I can see them dreadfully disintegrating.

Passerbys become spectators.

This tire is bound to go crashing into their windshields.

Maybe they’ll think of me when they discover the crack I made.

I’m not just some small indention in their lives,

I am an influence on their horizon.

Yes, I could always put my hazards on

to warn you that I’m still here,

but I know you’ve got places to go

and you’ll just run me over to get there.

You’ll overlook the skid marks these tires of mine have made,

and you’ll just drive gleefully past me thanking God that

you aren’t me.